trust me, i've got a plan
by grotesqueries
Summary: azula/jet - when the lights go down you'll understand. rated m for dark and possibly triggering themes. tumblr request.


written for an anon on tumblr, who requested: "Jet/Azula? Nothing fluffy, the more dysfunctional the better. Some kind of hate/intrigue, if you can." sadly, i sort of took the whole 'the more dysfunctional the better' and ran with it while sort of looking past everything else, but this fills in hate enough, i think. enjoy, oh anon of mine! (also punishment meaning punishment for being such a horrible fire nation wench.)

i don't own avatar: the last airbender, and even if i did, i wouldn't change a thing.

* * *

They meet in a prison. The Boiling Rock. (she is supposed to be in a mental health institution but after she set her nurses aflame it was decided that even she was not worth the trouble, and back to prison she went.)

And she is not pretty. She is far from the gorgeous, subtle, sneaky and sly princess she once was. She is a disaster zone, a walking travesty and the very sight of her sets his nerves on fire, because of her emaciated body and her jagged bangs and unkempt hair.

Jet meets Azula in prison, and damn if he doesn't think she's the most devastating girl he's ever seen.

She sees him and she is disgusted. Behind his empty mouth and slouched posture is the man who tried in vain to end the fire nation. She sees him and she sees white hot anger flash before, feels her wrists struggle in her eternal bonds when his eyes drag almost lustily over her sickly thin body. Flames flicker when she sees him and it doesn't occur to her to keep her emotions in check until she is blind-folded and dragged growling and yelling from her cell. The guards snigger and laugh as they drag her along and toss her into a dank-smelling, dark room. They whip the blind-fold off and there he is, in the corner illuminated by weak rays of most likely artificial light, tugging at his lip with one hand, his other hand raised in a salute.

"_Princess_,"he murmurs, releasing his lip.

"Filth!" she hisses, baring her teeth and leaning forward menacingly.

He laughs, moving slowly forward into the darker regions of the otherwise empty concrete room. "Fancy seeing you here."

The way she tosses her head and _growls_ like an animal sparks his nerves instantly, and he bites back a low chuckle. Seeing her struggle delights him. He wasn't never like this before, he wouldn't have even _dreamed _of overpowering someone before he was shoved into this hellhole to end all hellholes, but the way her body rolls and contorts a she attempts to break from her bonds – most likely so she can lunge and scrabble for his neck in hopes of wringing it – makes him think of a much more animalistic sort of act. He finds himself in front of her much too soon, and his hands unbound, raises a hand to raise her chin, his fingers positioned just below the cleft of her chin so she does not bite him, and with a voice hoarse and gravely from tack of proper use, he speaks.

"This will be your punishment."

And then he is kissing her, their chapped lips rough against each others, and she screams, voice hoarse and animalistic and for he first time he _laughs_ as he drops the hand from her chin to push against her shoulder, slowing her rapid struggling and pressing his lips roughly against hers. This is not love, this is not affection. This is punishment and it will strike her down.

It becomes a weekly sort of arrangement, and Azula finds out in due time that Jet is not a prisoner, nor is he important. He is simply Jet and he is there for some reason she does not care to know. But each week, on the same time at the same time (she assumes) she is dragged from her cell and taken to an interrogation room.

And it is there Jet has his way with her until she screams and _breaks _as she yells roughly against his unwelcome body for him to stop or else she will ignite his lousy skin in electric flames. He will stop then, and the guards will come and against she will be blinded and taken away.

She breaks into pieces when she is taken, a month later, to a lighter room, with mirrors on every inch of wall. He sits in a chair, his signature strand of wheat in his mouth, and eyes her. She whimpers, so quietly that his ears barely detect it, but they do and the wide grin that covers his face makes her blood run cold. She knows then what purpose the mirrors will serve.

Jet approaches her and all of a sudden, she can see _everything._ He rips her hair from its customary ragged up-do and she watches bunches of hair drift from his fingers to the cold white floor. He tugs her shirt up to stare angrily at the burn marks, and she sees bruises – bruises from _him _and his rough angry fingers – peppering her ribs and torso. He pushes her to the floor and the rough movement makes her arch, and then he pins her, and she shuts her eyes and desperately tries to ignore her punishment.

When she responds – and it is not a pretty response, either, she bites his lip hard enough to draw blood before she crashes her lips to his with all of the force she can dispel. His lips taste like blood for days afterwards, but he finds he rather likes her rough responses that grow bolder over time, and soon he requests for her shackles to be taken off, and the scratches and minuscule gouge marks from her long and jagged nails he receives fill him with excitement. He has tamed the exiled princess of the Fire Nation, and he would not have things any other way.

He dies a year after their initial meeting. She does not know how or why or even when, but her screams and wails of agony fill the prison for days after, and when the guards open her door for her weekly bath they find the floor scattered with ripped out hair and fingernails, and a few almost slip in her blood. Her blood, prized fire nation genes, now coat the floor. And in the corner, as usual, is Azula, the shamed princess, with barely a breath left in her.

The last thing he did to her – the last thing she willing and shamefully allowed him to do to her– was take the one thing she kept intact inside of her.

And she reflects as she is hauled, too light to be healthy though she has never been healthy, and realizes that everyone owns a piece of her. Katara her pride, Zuko her title, Mai and Ty Lee her fragile sanity, the Warden her body and Jet the thing that kept her 'pure'.

She will die in a low pool of water, and she will die knowing she has truly been punished, for she is no longer any semblance of what she was. For the very first time, Princess Azula is a fallen girl.


End file.
